


in the city that never sleeps

by redbrunja



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: Gaby and Illya cool their heels in New York.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82
Collections: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Winter Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	in the city that never sleeps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Somedeepmystery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/gifts).



Illya did not have a tourist’s knowledge of New York City.

During his time in the States, his comrades spoke with ex-pats and second generation Russian-Americans, learning who harbored ill-will towards the decedent west, who had an American passport and flawless Russian, who still held the Motherland close. Illya spent the time in cramped surveillance vans, closet-sized bedrooms with peeling wallpaper, and the occasional dark alley.

He might know who sold the best borscht in Brighton Beach and who was smuggling drugs in Sheepshead Bay but he was at a loss when his current team flew into the newly re-named John F. Kennedy International Airport and received a telegraph instructing them not to hurry their return to London.

Gaby looked with a frown the flimsy slip of paper in her hand and then up at her two partners.

"Do you think we have another mission stateside?" she asked.

Solo gave an insouciant shrug. "Either way, December in New York is a dreary place to wait. Can I convince you to join me in Miami?"

Gaby wrinkled her nose. "You want to get on _another_ plane? Right now?"

"Care to join me?" Solo gave her his best seductive smile and Illya clenched his teeth.

"No," Gaby said bluntly.

"A shame," Solo replied, picked up his case, kissed Gaby's cheek, nodded at Illya, and walked off towards the Pan Am ticket counter, his footsteps echoing in the almost deserted airport.

"I suppose we should find a hotel," Gaby said. Illya picked up her case as well as his own, and they started for the nearest exist.

On their way, they passed a visitor's center, dark and closed.

Illya's steps slowed as he looked in the window, glancing through the window.

"Good idea," Gaby said decisively, and pulled out her lockpicks.

Illya went to lean against the door, to shield her from view, but she was already pushing the door open before he could do so. She was almost as fast as Solo at lockpicking, now.

She shot him a grin as she entered and he smiled back. Gaby flicked on the lights. If they were interrupted, she clearly planned to take refuge in audacity, and claim they were supposed to be in the visitor's center at 04:23 a.m.

Gaby picked up one of each of the brochures, began looking through them with bright eyes. The Empire State Building, Times Square, Broadway, Coney Island, The Statue of Liberty. 

If left to her own devices, Gaby would charge right out into the city and begin sight seeing - ignoring the fact that she hadn’t slept in going on two days, and Illya had only had a forty minute cat nap in an airline seat over Nebraska.

Illya felt a flash of certainly, like finding the right frequency, or a clean shot lining up, and turning the brochure he was holding so that Gaby could read the front, he said, "We could stay at the Waldorf-Astoria."

Her eyes lit up.

Illya left a few bills on the counter before turning off the lights and letting Gaby lock the door behind them.

* * *

In the taxi, Gaby looked everywhere. At the brochures in her hands, out the window at the bright lights, pedestrians that were on the streets, even at this late, early hour.

“The Waldorf-Astoria is the tallest hotel in the world,” Gaby informed him. “1,416 rooms.”

“Second tallest,” Illya said.

Gaby gave him a look

“Hotel Ukraina is taller,” Illya said proudly. “Triumph of soviet architecture.” 

Gaby’s brown eyes were brimming with doubt.

The second thing she asked the staff, as they where checked in, was if the Waldorf-Astoria was the second tallest hotel in the world?

“It is the tallest, I _assure_ you, madam,” was the reply and Gaby gave him a smug grin over her shoulder.

* * *

That evening, after sleeping like the dead, they went sight-seeing.

Macy’s first, Gaby gazing with delight at the window displays, the lights bathing her face in gold.

Then they ducked inside, and Gaby purchased a jaunty red beret, the color as bright as cardinal’s feathers against her dark hair.

After that, they went to Central Park and wandered along, Gaby looking up at the trees strung with lights, Illya’s hand on her elbow to guide her around other pedestrians and the occasional pram.

They came across an ice rink with skates for rent, and there was no question about them joining the other skates gliding across the ice with various levels of skill.

Illya jammed his feet into the largest pair of rental skates available. With them pinching at his toes, he followed Gaby onto the ice.

It took a few strides for Illya’s body to remember the rhythm of ice skating. He had learned from childhood games of hockey in Gorky Park, and he was proficient if not graceful.

Gaby almost fell twice on her first turn around the rink and then all at once she was the most skilled person on the ice. She dashed around the rink, gliding around slower skaters.

Illya couldn’t take his eyes off her, the smooth motion of her body, her bright smile and brighter eyes, the motion of her hair in the wind. He had plenty of warning when she took a run at him, braced himself. When she collided with him, laughing, he managed to stay on his feet, his arms around her to make sure she stayed upright as well.

He reached up to straighten her beret, and couldn’t help but run the tips of his fingers along the side of her face. Gaby’s breath caught and she rose up on her toes, her weight resting against his chest, her hand gripping the lapel of his coat. 

Illya lowered his head-

There was a loud yelp and then another skater slammed into both of them. This time, Illya lost his footing, both of them tumbling to the ice.

Illya accepted the offered apologies through gritted teeth while Gaby snorted with laughter next to him.

When the accident-prone skater left, Gaby took his hand.

“Illya,” she said, meeting his eyes levelly. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

Illya felt color rise into his cheeks, deepening the flush from the cold, and nodded.

They took a taxi to the Waldorf-Astoria, and just like this morning, Gaby looked out the windows, watching the people and the lights and the other cars.

Only this time, she held Illya’s hand for the entire drive.

* * *

They undressed in a rush and Illya wondered if Gaby felt the goad of a phantom interruption as well - the threat of a call, a knock, some other ridiculous interruption.

Gaby pulled off her slip and Illya stilled, struck by her beauty, but the privilege of seeing her like this, her golden limbs, the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs.

He reached for her and she leapt into his arms.

He carried her to the bed, laid her carefully down, even as she urged him on, nails digging into his shoulders, her heel pressing into his back.

He braced himself on one arm, lined himself up, cock notched against her sex.

“Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips up, the head of his erection just inside her. “ _Ja, ja_.”

He pressed inside her, slow, watching every expression on her face as he moved. She was so tight, so hot. He was shaking, desperate to maintain control, to be good for her.

“Illya,” she moaned. “Illya, more, harder, please.”

Illya choked on air, obeyed. He thrust into her, gave her all of him, and she swore, snapped her hips against his, took him to the root, again and again and again, until he shuddered and emptied into her.

Gaby moaned, clenched around his softening cock. He wasn’t about to let her leave this bed unsatisfied.

He rolled onto his back and lifted her up, guiding her to straddle his face. His stubble brushed against her inner thighs.

Illya cradled her hips in his big hands, brought her cunt to his mouth. A man dying of thirst could not have wanted water as much as Illya wanted a taste of her.

She cried out, gripped the headboard, let him feast on her, tasting the bitter salt of his come, the sweeter slick of her arousal.

Gaby lifted herself up, her thighs trembling against the side of his face. "Can you breath-" she started to ask.

"Da," Illya said immediately, tugging her back down onto his mouth. Was he dizzy with the lack of air, with the taste of her? Yes. But that was no matter. He pressed his tongue inside her, sucked at her clit, felt her shake her way through her first orgasm. He didn’t stop. He kept sucking at her, lashing the swollen bud of her clitoris with the tip of his tongue until she flooded his mouth and chin, grinding out her climax against his face.

She gasped and collapsed on the bed.

They stared at each other, both panting. Gaby was flushed, cheeks pink, mouth plush from his kisses, from her biting her bottom lip.

Gaby reached out, ran her fingers along his lips, slick and shiny from her.

He opened his mouth, sucked the tip of her fingers. Gaby’s breath caught, her cheeks flushing darker.

That was when the phone rang, shrill in the silence.

Gaby exhaled and then rolled away, padding naked across the room to anwer.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains Illya being RIGHT about architecture! The Waldorf-Astoria was the world’s tallest hotel... Until the Hotel Ukraina in Moscow was built and completed in either 1957 or, literally, 1963. The date changes depending on if you are reading the Waldorf-Astoria’s or the Hotel Ukraina’s Wikipedia page. ;)


End file.
